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And that's exactly what I did.
That day I called my boss and let him know what was going on. My job no longer required me to be on site for jobs, except on rare occasions, so I explained that I would be working remotely for the time being, whether they liked it or not. The second call was to Cheryl to break the news. She came down immediately to visit, bringing me a suitcase of clothes at the same time. I practically moved in with Kit, never truly asking him permission. He didn’t fight it and he seemed happy to have me there.
Chris stopped by to visit nearly everyday, keeping tabs on everything that was going on and bringing us any supplies we needed. We played games together whenever he was there, making the most of the time we had left. Kevin was there less, but he was further away and his job was more demanding. Kit understood, although I’ll admit that I was annoyed by it. Kevin had become somewhat of a stranger after high school when he moved across the country and really never came back except on rare occasions. Sometimes I envied him, getting away from all the stupidity and backwards thinking that happens in small mid-western towns.
But then, I wouldn’t have been there with Kit if I had left. Really, even with all my struggles, I was thankful to have stayed. In some twisted way, I was overjoyed to finally have Kit back in my life... even if it was only temporary. We spent each day together on his front porch, enjoying the sunshine. Every night I’d cook or order out whatever he wanted. He could never eat more than a few bites, but it didn’t matter. We watched all his favorite movies and shows together, laughing at all the same parts and taking long trips down memory lane. I moved his king-sized bed into the living room with Chris’s help, placing it in such a way that he could sleep in it without being too far from his necessary tethers. Every night we slept there, side by side, my arms wrapped around him gently like I’d always hoped for.
I’d also pulled out his small desk the first day at his request. Here and there, when I had to leave for an hour or two, I would leave him there. When I returned he’d have ink stains on his fingers and papers in the garbage can, but everything else neatly packed away into the drawers. I didn’t know what he was working on, but I figured it was a journal of some sort to help him cope with the harsh reality he was living through. I never opened the drawers myself, letting his private thoughts be just that.
As the month wore on and spring slowly pushed through the veil of winter, Kit began to grow weaker, fading with every passing day. Our afternoons on the porch became only an hour or so a day. He found it harder and harder to stay awake during our movies. When the guys visited to play games, we had to keep them short. It was just too much for him to handle. He began to eat less and less, which was alarming. I pushed him to try for a few more bites, but he just couldn’t do it.
Hospice had already been stopping by regularly to help Kit with personal things. Things he said I wasn’t allowed to help with.
“I don’t want you to remember these parts,” he’d say when I asked why he’d rather have a stranger help him than me. He’d just shake his head and tell me to take a walk. Nothing could have ever tarnished my memories of him, but for his sake I stepped aside without a fight when they were there.
***
On the evening of March 30th, I laid Kit down in his bed for the last time. He was too weak to walk. We didn’t have another trip to the porch or another meal at the table. I called the guys. We knew it wouldn’t be much longer. They came right away and neither of them left, taking up residence in the spare bedroom at night.
That morning, three days later, Kit didn’t wake up. The sun came up, shining brilliantly as the daffodil buds burst into bloom just off his front porch. The birds were singing and the sky was an ocean of cerulean. It was a stark contrast to what was happening inside the house, just beyond the thin panes of glass. His monitor was still beeping, but his breath had grown ragged and shallow. Once in a while he’d make a noise, or his eyelids would flutter. I kept telling him over and over that I was right there and everything was okay. We all talked to him, knowing it would be the last time. The day slipped by slowly and painfully. I had to leave often to disappear to the bathroom where I would fight to compose myself as the sobs wracked my body.
Night finally came and the other two went off to bed, unable to keep their eyes open any longer. They knew I would be right there with Kit the entire time. In the dark I knelt on the floor next to Kit’s side of the bed. The monitors beeps were growing slower and slower. His breaths were shallow and too far apart.
He’d waited all day for us to finally go to bed, but I wasn’t going to leave his side. I’d be right there to the end, just like I’d promised. I grabbed his hand and leaned forward, the white cotton sheets wrinkling under my weight. His skin almost felt like paper, soft and too thin. Bringing my lips next to his ear, hoping he could still hear me, I finally said it.
“I love you Kit,” I whispered softly. “You can let go. I’ll be okay. You don’t have to fight anymore.”
He breathed out one last time, his lips moving just slightly, as if to respond, but unable to form words. The monitor stopped beeping, a long tone holding as the line flattened. I reached up and gently flipped the switch to stop the noise. Returning my hand back to his, I held it tightly, knowing it would be the last time it would be warm to the touch. I leaned down, still holding his hand in mine, and laid my head across his thigh, like he had always done with me. I felt my heart break, but no tears came to my eyes. I just laid there, savoring that final moment for as long as I could.
I knew I had to call someone, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it just yet.